Chapter 317
"What do you mean by that?"
When Myo Cheon-u asked urgently, Yu Un-ryong replied in a firm voice:
"That bastard is a complete lunatic who can't even begin to comprehend other people's emotions."
"Huh?"
Myo Cheon-u couldn't hide his bewilderment.
"Lunatics normally can't understand others' emotions, right?"
"No, it's entirely different."
A faint smile played at the corners of Yu Un-ryong's lips.
"That bastard is a madman who pretends to be perfectly sane."
"Pretends to be sane..."
Myo Cheon-u fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, then furrowed his brow and shook his head.
"Even if that's true, how can you be so sure? It might just be speculation."
"About a month ago, Cheon-geom led the Yojin Sword Unit to eradicate a branch of the Mad Blood Poison Sect."
Yu Un-ryong continued matter-of-factly.
"When he saw one of his subordinates writhing in agony after being struck by a poison dart, he supposedly used Void Object Retrieval to yank it out in one go—claiming he was helping."
The poison dart was a Shape-Condensing Hidden Weapon crafted by the Mad Blood Poison Sect.
Once embedded, the sharp barbs on its surface would curve like fishhooks.
Thus, removing it required meticulously cutting away the barbs before carefully extracting it.
Yet Cheon-geom had torn it out in one swift motion, supposedly to "save" his subordinate.
"Isn't that just a cruel personality?"
At Myo Cheon-u's question, Yu Un-ryong nodded.
"If that were the only incident, I might think so too. But something similar happened when he dealt with the Red Blade Sect."
"What was it?"
"They say he ignored a village fire and just passed by. His reasoning? If he didn't reach the Red Blade Sect quickly, they'd fortify their defenses."
Yu Un-ryong's expression was one of absolute conviction.
"I looked into other incidents and his past actions too. In the end, the reason Cheon-geom's methods are so ruthless and fearless... is because he fundamentally can't grasp other people's emotions."
Bu Eun-seol faintly nodded as he grasped the meaning behind those words.
He, too, had suspected that Cheon-geom lacked genuine empathy for others' emotions.
But Yu Un-ryong had gone further—concluding, after thorough investigation, that the man was incapable of it.
There was a vast difference between choosing not to and being unable to.
If that analysis was accurate, Bu Eun-seol could devise multiple strategies to bring Cheon-geom down.
"I'm certain of it."
As if reading Bu Eun-seol's thoughts, Yu Un-ryong spoke firmly.
"You must have sensed it too by now."
Not only had Yu Un-ryong fully blossomed as a strategist, but his personality and analytical skills had grown equally meticulous.
Moreover, having spent so long observing and dissecting Cheon-geom's actions, his prediction left no room for error.
"I see."
As Bu Eun-seol nodded, Yu Un-ryong continued.
"On top of that, for some reason, he seems hellbent on achieving merit."
"He's aiming for a Hall Master Rank position, no doubt."
Bu Eun-seol nodded as if it were obvious.
"If he succeeds, he'll become someone I can't even touch."
Cheon-geom was relentlessly accumulating achievements, intending to rise to a rank where Bu Eun-seol would be powerless against him.
The Demon Hall and the Martial Alliance.
These two colossal forces refrained from direct conflict. Especially with figures of Hall Master Rank—they were part of the High Command, utterly untouchable.
One misstep could trigger the Great Orthodox-Unorthodox War.
"I investigated thoroughly, but I'm not sure if it's enough."
When Yu Un-ryong looked uneasy, Bu Eun-seol nodded.
"It's enough."
Just by hearing Yu Un-ryong's analysis of Cheon-geom's personality,
Bu Eun-seol had already begun refining his plans, shaping them into a flawless form.
"Originally, my plan required twelve stages."
Bu Eun-seol spoke in a low voice.
"But now that I've confirmed Cheon-geom's flaw, I can reduce it to five."
"Hmm."
Yu Un-ryong stroked his chin, lost in thought.
No matter how he considered it, he couldn't predict how Bu Eun-seol would orchestrate Cheon-geom's downfall.
One thing was certain—Bu Eun-seol always executed plans systematically, deploying complex tactics that pierced straight through the enemy's psychology.
By the time the enemy realized the full scope of the plan, they'd already be trapped in an inescapable quagmire.
"From now on, I'll drag that madman down to the depths—step by step."
A chilling glint spread through Bu Eun-seol's eyes as he curled his lips into a cold smile.
"So that he can never set foot in the Martial Alliance again."
With the intelligence networks of Langya Pavilion and the Fleeting Moment Boat—and even the Kill-Seeking Unit, the Demon Hall's most covert elite force—under his command, Bu Eun-seol's information-gathering prowess rivaled that of the Secret Shadow Pavilion, the Demon Hall's foremost intelligence division.
Moreover, capturing the Heavenly Sword was no longer just Bu Eun-seol's personal vendetta. This was a battle between a Ten Demonic Heir and a Master of Great Righteousness.
With the Secret Shadow Pavilion's cooperation now secured, Bu Eun-seol wielded the most formidable intelligence apparatus in the entire demonic path.
And so, in an instant, he could predict the Heavenly Sword's next move.
The Kill the Weak Sect.
A depraved assassin faction composed of reckless killers who would murder even children for the right price.
Their atrocities had grown so extreme that the Martial Alliance had attempted to eradicate them multiple times.
But the Kill the Weak Sect was nestled deep within the valleys of White Moon Mountain.
And the only path leading there? A single iron chain bridge spanning two cliffs.
Worse, the bridge could barely support the weight of one person at a time.
At the slightest hint of approaching forces, they would sever the bridge.
After much deliberation, the Martial Alliance had even considered cutting the bridge themselves to isolate the sect entirely.
But an unexpected faction intervened—the Green Forest bandits.
"The area around White Moon Mountain falls under Southern River Fortress's jurisdiction. The Martial Alliance has no authority here."
How dare mere bandits defy the Martial Alliance?
Yet the Kill the Weak Sect was located in a remote borderland, far removed from the Central Plains.
The region around White Moon Mountain had no orthodox sects whatsoever—only the overwhelming influence of the Green Forest.
And once the Kill the Weak Sect began funneling massive sums to the Green Forest Stronghold... the bandits became their staunch protectors, blocking the Martial Alliance's intervention at every turn.
Thus, shielded by the Green Forest and fortified within their natural stronghold, the Kill the Weak Sect continued to wreak havoc across the martial world with impunity.
And now, the Heavenly Sword intended to crush them—to claim yet another glorious achievement.
"This should be the place."
A towering figure arrived before White Moon Mountain, where the Kill the Weak Sect lay hidden.
Built like a bear, with a massive greatsword strapped to his back—
It was the Heavenly Sword.
"It's been a while. Time to stretch my limbs."
He cracked his neck and grinned.
He had brought his entire Yojin Sword Unit, the elite first-grade sword squad under his command.
Yet upon reaching the outskirts of White Moon Mountain, he ordered them to wait at a nearby guest inn.
"All of you, stand by here."
His unit members couldn't hide their bewilderment.
They had followed him all this way to eliminate the Kill the Weak Sect—only to be told to wait?
"If you all march toward White Moon Mountain, the Kill the Weak Sect will notice and cut the bridge. So I'll handle this alone."
The unit members frowned in unison.
"Then why did you bring us at all?"
They were well aware of the Heavenly Sword's overwhelming martial prowess.
But if he planned to act alone from the start, why drag them along?
"If I went alone, the Alliance would throw a fit. They'd never approve the mission."
Sword Unit Commanders of the Martial Alliance were forbidden from acting without their units.
And so, the Heavenly Sword shamelessly admitted—he had only brought them to skirt the rules.
The unit members bit their lips, exchanging bitter glances.
Even if he was the Sword Sovereign's disciple, did he have to treat his own subordinates like baggage?
"Well then, I'll be back."
But the Heavenly Sword paid no mind to their reactions. He had come here alone for a reason.
"Sorry, but I don't have time to waste."
Recalling his subordinates' expressions, he muttered under his breath.
He needed to accumulate merit swiftly—to climb to a higher position as fast as possible.
Because he had to secure the youngest Hall Leader title in history.
"Being a Sword Unit Commander isn't bad... but it's no Hall Leader position."
A first-grade commander in the Martial Alliance was by no means a lowly rank.
But it wasn't a lifetime guarantee either—demotions could occur based on merits and faults.
A Hall Leader, however, was different.
Short of an unforgivable crime or major corruption—one severe enough to convene a Ten Justice Assembly—the position was secure indefinitely.
Moreover, Hall Leaders had the authority to conduct operations independently, wielding power nearly equal to that of a Sword Corps Commander.
"Once I secure a Hall Leader seat... that bastard won't be able to sit still, will he?"
The Heavenly Sword's eyes curved into crescents as he pictured Bu Eun-seol's icy face.
If he became a Hall Leader—
Bu Eun-seol would have no choice but to accept his terms and step down as successor.
Because revenge must be taken.
"Heh heh heh. Hahahaha!"
Recalling Bu Eun-seol's bloodshot eyes, Cheon-geom burst into a hearty laugh.
As the Sword Sage's disciple, he had never encountered anyone who dared to provoke him—nor anyone capable of opposing him in martial arts.
But now, at last, he had found a worthy adversary within the Demonic Path, a truly exceptional figure.
And that madness burning in his eyes—
Wasn't it the same indiscriminate frenzy that could only be sensed in those of his own kind?
"This is fun. So much fun."
Cheon-geom licked his lips with a rapturous expression.
To him, the world had always been painted in a dull, lifeless gray—neither bright nor dark.
But after meeting Bu Eun-seol, the world had regained its vivid colors.
The tedious, suffocating monotony of his days had vanished entirely, replaced by a thrilling tension he had never experienced before.
Bu Eun-seol, the Heir of the Demon Hall.
He must surely possess the skill to slit Cheon-geom's throat at any moment.
"How long until that bastard gives up on everything?"
Humming to himself, Cheon-geom activated his movement technique once more.
"A year? No, half a year? By then, he'll have no choice but to abandon it all."
The position of the Demon Hall's heir was like the sun hanging high in the sky.
Cheon-geom would send Bu Eun-seol, standing atop that pinnacle, plummeting into the abyss in an instant.
And that spectacle—it would bring him a pleasure more intoxicating than anything else in the world.
"We're here."
Unleashing a movement technique swift as a gale, he arrived before the chain bridge leading to the Kill the Weak Sect.
"Shall we begin?"
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly.
Before battle, he always fused his physical body and spirit into one, sharpening his senses and reflexes to their peak while amplifying the might of his sword techniques.
'Hm?'
But something was off.
The moment he heightened his senses, faint groans and the clashing of weapons echoed from the opposite Secluded Valley.
'No way—?'
Just as Cheon-geom, sensing foreboding, prepared to dash across the iron chain bridge in a single breath—
Swish.
A black shadow emerged from the opposite valley.
A sword, dyed in pitch-black ink, was strapped to its back, and its dark robes were thoroughly drenched in blood.
"You—!"
Cheon-geom's eyes widened.
Standing before him was none other than his rival—Bu Eun-seol.
Clink. Clink.
Bu Eun-seol strode across the swaying chain bridge as if it were solid ground, stopping right in front of Cheon-geom.
Pfft.
A cold smirk curled on Bu Eun-seol's lips as he looked at Cheon-geom.
Then, without a single word, he turned and brushed past him.
"What a coincidence, isn't it?"
Cheon-geom grinned widely as he called out.
But Bu Eun-seol continued walking as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"Hohoho."
Cheon-geom watched Bu Eun-seol's retreating back, his laughter spinning like a whirlwind—yet flames flickered in his eyes.
"So this is how you plan to interfere?"
Bu Eun-seol was the Heir of the Demon Hall.
In terms of intelligence-gathering alone, he rivaled the Information Hall Master of the Martial Alliance—no, perhaps even the Chief Strategist himself.
"But what a shame. There are plenty of other ways to earn merit."
With a mocking sneer, Cheon-geom turned away indifferently.
***
Yong Mu-gang, the Flower Plucking Bandit.
A vile lecher who took pleasure in assaulting young women from wealthy families.
He had a robust physique, a decent face, formidable martial prowess, and an extraordinary movement technique.
Had he chosen a different path, he could have achieved great success—either as a righteous martial artist or as a mercenary seeking wealth.
But Yong Mu-gang chose to commit crimes and revel in his depravity.
Over the past five years, he had roamed the martial world, committing countless atrocities beyond reckoning.
Yet he had always escaped unscathed from the pursuit of masters—because his original profession had been that of a thief.
He was once the disciple of a renowned master thief known as the Great Thief Dokhaengdo.
Thieves meticulously plan before stealing even a single item.
They account for tens of thousands of possible emergencies, prepare flawless escape routes, and devise multiple contingency plans in case of failure.
Moreover, Yong Mu-gang was born with animalistic instincts.
Thanks to the combination of his innate talent and honed skills, he had managed to shake off countless pursuers and survive to this day.
—"Capture Yong Mu-gang!"
Recently, the Orthodox Murim had been thrown into chaos in their efforts to apprehend him.
Because the victim of his depravity this time was none other than Wang Seo-eon—a secular disciple of the Emei Sect and the daughter of Jinan's wealthy merchant Wang Un.
After suffering Yong Mu-gang's vile acts, Wang Seo-eon ultimately took her own life.
When news of this spread, the enraged Emei Sect mobilized its disciples to hunt Yong Mu-gang down.
But when they failed to catch even a glimpse of him, they sought help from the Martial Alliance.
"You must find that despicable lecher!"
The Martial Alliance immediately dispatched over a dozen sword squads to pursue him.
Not only that—countless mercenaries took up the chase for money, but... Yong Mu-gang, having already grasped the situation, had vanished without a trace.
Even numerous intelligence networks and the Government Office's most capable investigators pursued him, yet every single one failed to capture him.
Nongga Hong, Yeonju District.
This area was home to a village of disabled and deaf-mute individuals.
Outwardly, it appeared to be just an ordinary settlement, but in truth, Nongga Hong was a martial faction.
This sprawling village was the headquarters of the Crippled Gang—a faction composed entirely of the disabled.
One might assume a gathering of the physically impaired would be insignificant, but in reality, the Crippled Gang wielded influence comparable to any major faction.
All those with disabilities joined the Crippled Gang and banded tightly together. Like the Beggars' Sect, they were scattered across the Central Plains, gathering all manner of information.
The Crippled Gang sold such intelligence at high prices while also involving themselves in various interests and businesses.
Inside a shabby thatched cottage at the deepest part of Nongga Hong—
Glug, glug, glug.
A man sat leaning against the wall, drinking.
His build was rugged, his features handsome—but dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his gaze was sharp and narrow.
An eerie, unsettling light lingered in his pupils, so much so that even the fiercest warrior would likely avert his eyes upon meeting them.
This was none other than the Flower Plucking Bandit—Yong Mu-gang.
"I'll have to stay put for another month or so."
He stared blankly at the air with a bored expression.
Truthfully, even before becoming Dokhaengdo's disciple, he had been a member of the Crippled Gang.
The Crippled Gang was so overlooked by other factions that no one paid them any mind—and for the right price, they'd do anything.
After learning martial arts and the Pickpocketing Art from Dokhaengdo, he had used the Crippled Gang's branches—scattered across the 180,000 ri of the Central Plains—as hideouts.
Since the gang consisted of the disabled, most factions wouldn't even bother searching here.
After all, if they conducted a fruitless search, they'd only invite severe backlash.
"Those bastards wouldn't know the first thing about the Crippled Gang."
He smirked before sprawling flat on the floor.
"Whether it's the Martial Alliance or the Emei Sect, their pursuit won't last even a month."
A sneer curled his lips.
Factions weren't relentless in their pursuits.
Because while crushing an enemy sect or faction brought fame, influence, and additional profits...
Deploying manpower just to catch a single criminal simply wasn't cost-effective.
"The only reason the Martial Alliance stepped in was because Golden Stream Hall offered money. Once time passes, only bounty-hunting mercenaries will remain."
Gulp, gulp.
Yong Mu-gang drained the last of his liquor before lying back comfortably.
Once a month or so passed, the Martial Alliance and Emei Sect pursuers would naturally give up—and that's when he planned to re-emerge and wreak havoc once more.
"She was quite the catch, wasn't she?"
He licked his lips as he recalled Wang Seo-eon's appearance from days prior.
He had known she was a secular disciple of the Nine Great Sects and One Gang—but he couldn't resist, for her beauty had been utterly unbearable.
"Why'd she have to kill herself? If she'd stayed alive, I'd have visited her again."
At that moment—
A low voice spoke from the opposite side of where he lay.
"You can visit her in the Underworld."
Yong Mu-gang's skin prickled instantly.
Having inherited all of Dokhaengdo's legacy, his senses were sharper than most martial masters.
Yet he hadn't detected even the slightest presence until someone had already entered his room?
'If I move carelessly, I'm dead.'
As Yong Mu-gang swallowed hard—
"No need to tense up."
The shadow standing behind him spoke softly.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd have died already."
Hearing this, Yong Mu-gang swiftly rolled to his feet and spun around.
There stood a man clad in a gray martial uniform.
His features were as exquisitely beautiful as a peerless beauty's—but his eyes were like those of a Death God, cold and crimson, devoid of warmth.
In that instant, Yong Mu-gang felt a terror so suffocating it seemed to seal his breath.
The contrast between that beautiful face and those terrifying eyes created an eerie dissonance—evoking an indescribable dread.